Although, this is the bit where I'm supposed to keep it short and mysterious. I've never been very good at that. I wouldn't blame you if you stop for a coffee..
A Bath and Somerset wedding photographer, specialising exclusively in intimate weddings and elopements across Bath, Somerset and beyond – and a trusted photography supplier at the historic Roman Baths in Bath, Somerset.
My approach is rooted in storytelling. Not simply preserving how your day looked, but how it felt.
I love weddings done a little differently. The ones that forget what they’re supposed to look like and become something that actually feels like the two people at the centre of them.
I don’t remember a childhood without photographs.
They were everywhere. Boxes tucked into cupboards, loose prints in carrier bags, old albums with worn corners. Every Christmas, birthday or family gathering, they’d eventually come back out.
“Remember this?”
“Remember when…?”
Before I ever picked up a camera, I learnt that photographs weren’t simply pictures.
They were a way of keeping people close.
Alongside my Mum, my grandparents helped raise me, and my Nan never wanted a moment to disappear unnoticed.
“Take a photo.”
It was one of those little phrases that followed me through childhood. I didn’t realise it then, but she was teaching me something I’ve carried with me ever since.
That memories matter.
I was born in the 80s, so nostalgia probably runs a little too deeply through me.
I grew up with printed photographs, mixtapes and CDs; waiting for a song to come on the radio and desperately trying to record it without the presenter talking over the beginning.
Music has always marked chapters of my life.
A few seconds of a song can take me straight back to a person, a place, a summer, a car journey. Someone I’ve loved. Someone I’ve lost.
And photographs do exactly the same thing.
Both have this extraordinary ability to make time travel possible for a few seconds.
That’s what I want your photographs to do.
Twenty years from now, I don’t just want you to think that’s a beautiful photograph.
I want something to stir.
The nervous excitement. The ridiculous laugh. The lump in your throat. The song that was playing. The person beside you. The feeling of someone’s hand in yours.
Because to me, that’s storytelling.
Not remembering how something looked.
Remembering how it felt.
When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to leave Somerset. I thought life was happening somewhere louder, busier and more exciting.
So I left.
I spent much of my twenties away from home, including years in Milton Keynes, and genuinely loved it. But sometimes you have to leave somewhere to understand what it means to you.
Eventually, Somerset called me back.
These days I live rurally, not far from Glastonbury, surrounded by countryside, my beloved animals and my muddy boots – while living close enough to one of the world’s biggest music festivals to remind me that the musical side of me will never disappear.
I’m an introverted extrovert. I love people, conversation, music and going somewhere I’ve never been – but I’m equally happy disappearing home and shutting the world out for a while.
I’m not particularly interested in designer labels, the newest car or keeping up appearances.
Give me experiences. People. Music. Animals. Places. Stories.
The things we’ll actually remember.
My route here wasn’t particularly straightforward.
I’ve trained in beauty therapy, worked in engineering project management, studied digital media and changed direction more than once.
My life has never followed a neat little path.
But through every version of it, there was one constant.
I always had a camera.
I’ve taken a ridiculous number of photographs over the years. People, places, nights out, holidays and completely ordinary days.
And strangely, some of the photographs that seemed the least important when I took them are now the ones that mean the most.
I think sometimes your calling doesn’t arrive with a grand announcement.
Sometimes it’s been quietly following you for years, waiting for you to notice it.
Photography was mine.
Today, I photograph intimate weddings and elopements exclusively.
Smaller celebrations leave room for the things I’m naturally drawn to.
The glance before the vows.
The squeeze of a hand.
The deep breath nobody else noticed.
Someone wiping away a tear when they think nobody is watching.
The completely uncontrollable laugh.
The things that can’t really be planned. The real and rawness of the day unfolding. You cannot beat that.
Those are the photographs I look for because, one day, those ordinary little moments become family history.
And perhaps that’s why I ended up here after all.
I’ve somehow found my way back to something I understood long before I knew it could become my life’s work:
People change. Places change. Life moves ridiculously quickly.
But every now and then, we’re lucky enough to preserve a tiny piece of it.
Perhaps that’s what my Nan was teaching me all those years ago when she said:
“Take a photo.”
Not a Smaller Celebration. A Deeper One.